


Touch

by clowderforce



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Chapter 9 Spoilers, Gen, Mostly Gen, One Shot, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 13:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10022027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clowderforce/pseuds/clowderforce
Summary: Ignis sighed. “I’m not sure what you’re expecting, but nothing’s going to change if you can’t come clean with your feelings.”Gladio barked out a laugh, nearly causing Ignis to jump. “Ha! That’s rich!” he said. “Nice to meet you, pot. Call me kettle.”Were he capable of it, Ignis would have shot Gladio a dirty look. But, as much as he hated to admit it, he was right. He’d made a terrible habit of hiding his own feelings for the benefit of the group. This was something both of them needed to work on.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *** SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 9 AHEAD
> 
> I wrote this partially as a way to process the emotional whiplash that this game gave me, and partially as a way to practice writing without relying so heavily on visual descriptions. 
> 
> It's a gen fic, but you can interpret it as romantically or platonically as you like.

Ignis reclined back on the bed in a fresh pair of clothes, his hair still damp from the shower he had just taken. After what felt like ages of intense scrubbing, he had  _ finally  _ managed to get the stench of swamp water and marlboro breath off his skin.

They still had a few hours before they would reach Tenebrae, just enough time to sneak in a quick rest. He was grateful for the reprieve -- loathe as he was to admit it, fumbling around in that marsh had taken a lot out of him. After constantly knocking into things, readjusting his bearings, and dealing with the near palpable tension between himself and the others, it was no wonder he was feeling worn down. A sliver of doubt had begun to creep in, reaching out its tendrils into the corners of his mind: would he truly be able to see this through to the very end? Would continuing on even serve a purpose, or was he just stubbornly nursing his own wounded pride at others’ expense? 

The sound of his door sliding open interrupted his thoughts. He briefly wondered who it was, but realized there was only one person he could think of who wouldn’t knock first. “Good evening, Gladio,” Ignis said, stirring. He reached over and grabbed his glasses off the nightstand -- more out of habit than for any practical use at this point -- and slid them onto his face as he sat up.

“Hey, Iggy,” Gladiolus responded from the doorway. The gruff, baritone timbre of his voice was a familiar, comforting sound. “Was thinking of grabbing something from the dining car. You want anything?”

Ignis shook his head. “Not much of an appetite, I’m afraid,” he said.

Gladio grunted in response. Ignis could hear him step into the room -- there was no mistaking his clunky, confident footsteps for anyone else’s. “Can’t say I blame you,” Gladio said. “Food here sucks. We’ve been too spoiled by your cooking.”

Ignis gave a bittersweet smile and raked a hand back through his hair. As much as he appreciated the compliment, that particular wound was still fresh. He wasn’t sure when, if ever, he’d be able to cook for the group again. It was hard to imagine getting his dishes just right without the aid of his vision. There were some things he could still figure out with a little assistance, he was sure, but for now, he was too prideful to ask for it. “Don’t tell me you’re tired of Cup Noodles already,” he joked, though his voice was betrayed by a hint of uneasiness.

“Hell no,” Gladio replied, taking a seat next to him. Ignis felt his mattress dip slightly under his weight. “They’re still my favorite. But man can’t live on instant ramen alone, Iggy.” 

“Indeed,” Ignis said.

They sat together at the edge of the bed, with only the gentle rumbling of the tracks below to break the silence between them. Ignis had the distinct feeling that Gladio wanted to tell him something, but he was struggling to find the words to say.

Gladio shifted around awkwardly next to him. “So, uh, about earlier…”

“Yes, Gladio?” he pressed.

“Thanks for saving our asses back there. And...” He let out a long breath. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“Hmm? What for?” 

“Back when we left the tomb,” he said. By the way he spoke, Ignis could clearly envision the way he usually scratched the back of his neck when he felt guilty. “I spoke out of line.” 

Ignis sighed. “No. No, you didn’t,” he said. He rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers, feeling weary. He didn’t want to talk about this. He was tired of all the sympathy. It was bad enough he had to lose his eyesight, but it was even more frustrating to deal with everyone treating him so delicately. They all knew their duties could cost them their lives. In the grand scheme of things, it was a small sacrifice -- getting out of Altissia with only one member suffering a debilitating blindness was actually somewhat  _ lucky _ given the odds. He was willing to endure it for the team, but they seemed less inclined to simply let him endure it. Every hushed apology, every well-intentioned guiding hand, every sorrowful look that he could feel even if he couldn’t directly see it… in many ways, it was worse than his affliction.

“Still, I was being harsh,” Gladio continued. “I let the tension get the best of me, and I wound up taking it out on you guys. Sorry about that.”

“Pay it no mind,” Ignis said dismissively, waving his hand.

Gladio gave a dark chuckle. “It’s kind of hard to ignore, though,” he said. “I know you’re trying to act tough, but I think you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

Ignis gritted his teeth.  _ Again with the sympathy _ , he thought, growing irritated with the direction of the conversation. “I will push myself as hard as I need to. As you said, we’re in a war, and time isn’t on our side. I refuse to give up until the crystal is back in Lucian hands.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded. He sounded dissatisfied with Ignis’ response, but it was also clear that he wasn’t itching for a fight. “Well, at least you can get out of chauffeur duty, huh?” he joked, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. 

Ignis frowned at the reminder. He’d actually preferred to drive the Regalia whenever he could -- it had always felt safest when it was in his control. “I can’t say I’m thrilled at the idea of Noct permanently taking the wheel,” he said. 

“Maybe it won’t stress you out as much if you can’t actually see how bad his driving is.”

“Lucky me.”

“Aww, c’mon, Iggy, it’ll be great. Just you and me, hanging out in the back seat, the wind whipping through our hair as we embrace the freedom of the open road... Assuming we don’t all crash and die, of course.”

Ignis couldn’t help but crack a smile. “I’m sure Noct will appreciate your vote of confidence,” he said.

Gladio’s voice suddenly shifted to a sour tone. “Ugh, man, don’t tell him I said that. He’s pissed enough at me as it is.”

Ignis crossed his arms. Their feud was a particularly hairy one, and neither of them was being very helpful in trying to resolve it. “To be fair, you have been… well…” He trailed off, trying to find a benign way to address it.

“A major dick?”

“Your words, not mine, Gladio.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” he replied gruffly. He let out a sigh of frustration and flopped backwards onto the bed, landing with a soft thud. “Yeah, I’m aware. I don’t get it, though. It’s not like I don’t care about him -- I care a lot. I’ll proudly put my life on the line for the kid, and I wouldn’t give up my duty as shield for anything... But when I see him moping around, looking helpless, it pisses me off. How the hell is he supposed to save Lucis if he can’t even take care of himself?”

“It is quite unbecoming to see a king behave that way,” Ignis said. Noctis’ irritability and moodiness, though understandable given recent circumstances, were putting a heavy strain on their group dynamic. There was no denying that. He paused, taking a moment to think about it. “That’s not why you’re angry with him, though, is it?”

Gladio deliberated this for a little while. He took in a deep breath, letting it fill his lungs, then he exhaled it out slowly. “Honestly? I don’t think I’m angry with him at all,” he said, his voice low.

Though he couldn’t see Gladio’s face, Ignis could practically feel the discomfort radiating off him. Gladio had developed a thick skin over the years -- that was what made him such an effective bodyguard, after all -- but it came at a price. It wasn’t often he voluntarily lowered his defenses like this. He usually couldn’t afford to do so. Ignis decided to make good use of it. “You’re not?” he prodded softly. He touched a hand to his thigh, hoping he would take it as a gesture of support.

Gladio patted Ignis’ hand, following with a light squeeze. “Nah,” he said. 

Apparently, Gladio didn’t care to elaborate any further. He simply lied there, leaving Ignis with nothing but the hum of the engine and wheels turning below them. 

“Well, you’re certainly angry at  _ something _ ,” Ignis said.

“Yeah, no shit,” Gladio replied, a hint of irritation peppering his speech. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Just… give me a minute.”

“Take all the time you need.” 

After a few more moments of silence, he spoke. “I...  still can’t come to grips with what happened in Altissia,” he admitted. “You, Noct, Prompto… I don’t know what to do when I can’t protect you. It scares me.”

Ignis felt his heart sink. Of course that was it. He chastised himself internally for not recognizing it earlier. It was no wonder Gladio seemed so aggressive and overbearing -- he was grieving in his own way, in the only way he knew how.

“It’s stupid,” he continued. “I’m supposed to be the Shield. I’m supposed to be the brave one. I have no problem with crawling around ancient ruins, wrestling coeurls, surviving out in the wild, or even fighting Titan. You know,  _ the _ Titan. One of the Six. No big deal, right? … But that’s nothing compared to when I see Noct gripping that ring, or Prompto faking a smile, or you going on and pretending everything’s just fine. I… I can’t handle it.”

“Gladio…”

“I know what I’m doing is not right. I know that getting up in his face is the last thing Noctis needs, but I can’t help it. Every time he shoves me, or glares at me, or tells me off, I see this…  spark, almost. Something that tells me he won’t quit, even if it’s just to spite me. It almost feels like if he hates me enough, he’ll be too preoccupied for despair to take him. It’s easier to see him pissed off than it is to see him so…  _ lifeless _ .”

Ignis frowned. “That’s not rational, Gladio.”

“Never said it was,” he countered.

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

“Of course I have,” Gladio said. “But every time I do, I get hotheaded, say something stupid, and piss him off even more. What’s the point of talking to him if I’m only going to make it worse?”

Ignis sighed. “I’m not sure what you’re expecting, but nothing’s going to change if you can’t come clean with your feelings.”

Gladio barked out a laugh, nearly causing Ignis to jump. “Ha! That’s rich!” he said. “Nice to meet you, pot. Call me kettle.”

Were he capable of it, Ignis would have shot Gladio a dirty look. But, as much as he hated to admit it, he was right. He’d made a terrible habit of hiding his own feelings for the benefit of the group. This was something both of them needed to work on.

“You think you’ll ever get it back?” Gladio asked. “Your vision, I mean.”

Ignis swallowed. “No, probably not,” he said, shaking his head. “My eyes were very badly damaged. To repair them would take nothing short of a miracle.”

Gladio sighed. “I figured as much,” he said. “That sucks.”

“Yes,” Ignis said simply. “It does suck.”

“There you go,” Gladio said, the bed creaking beneath him as he sat back up. “See, that wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?” He gave him a playful thump on the back to encourage him.

Ignis adjusted his glasses, which had been knocked slightly out of place from the friendly gesture. “You know what? You are absolutely right,” he said. “In fact, I’d go so far as to say it sucks  _ tremendously _ .”

Gladio let out a low whistle. “Tremendously, huh? That’s the spirit. Keep going.”

“What?” said Ignis. He was starting to feel a little silly.

Gladio clicked his tongue. “C’mon, Iggs. I know you can do better than that. I spilled my guts, now it’s your turn.”

“I hardly think that’s necessary…” Ignis began.

“Nope, you’re not getting out of this one,” Gladio insisted. “Spit it out.”

“Alright. Fine.” He folded his hands in his lap. He wasn’t sure where to start, let alone how to go about articulating the thoughts that swarmed inside his head. Speaking candidly about such sensitive matters off the cuff like this wasn’t exactly his specialty, but… he sighed. There was no time like the present to start, he supposed.

“I hate this,” he said, surprised with the venom that seeped out of his voice. “It’s infuriating. I’m all too aware of how useless I’ve become. I’m a burden and a liability to all of you, and there’s no use in shying away from that. My stubbornness could very well get me killed. It could get  _ all of us _ killed.”

Gladio didn’t say anything. There was no need. They had been over this before, and Gladio had made this very same point several times. Loudly.

“Like you, I have been trained from a very young age to serve Lucis. My life has revolved around becoming an advisor to the future King. I have no other path. I don’t say this out of resentment, mind you -- you know how I loathe ambiguity, so I actually considered it a blessing to have my fate mapped out in such a clear, focused direction. But now that I’ve lost my eyesight, I no longer have that blessing. I don’t have a clear view of what’s in front of me anymore, literally or  figuratively. I’m… I’m still struggling with it.”

This time, Gladio was the one to offer a gesture of support. He wrapped his large, muscular arms around Ignis’ comparatively small frame, scooping him up into a bear hug. “Iggy,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “I know it’s not easy for you. If you need to bow out, no one will blame you. You’ve already done so much for us. You’ll have all of our support, I promise.” 

Somewhat sheepishly, Ignis reciprocated the hug, but then he withdrew, steeling himself. “I still refuse to back down. It may be selfish of me, but… the three of you are all I have now, and I will not give you up without a fight. It won’t be easy for any of us, and if it comes down to it, you can abandon me. But understand this: I will walk tall. I will give it everything I have. I have no room for regrets.”

Gladio sighed. “Only you would consider pushing yourself to the brink like this to be selfish. But If there’s anyone who can figure out how to make it work, it’s you, Iggy,” he said, ruffling his hair lightly. “Besides, you’ve got all your other senses to pick up the slack, right?”

Ignis nodded. “I can only pray they’ll be enough to make a difference.” He ruminated on this for a bit. It had only been a few weeks, but indeed, his other senses were beginning to compensate for his lack of vision. 

His olfactory abilities, for better or worse, had gotten stronger. When the train windows were open, he could get a sense for their location based on what kind of scents swirled around into the cabin. There was something relaxing about the smell of forests, of seasides, of rain -- he gained a new appreciation for them, especially when he had no other means of sensory input like reading to keep him occupied. He was also sensitive to less pleasant odors, like the overcooked, prepackaged meals from the dining car. Or the marlboro, he thought, resisting the urge to gag. He had never smelt something so utterly foul in his life. That was one sensory experience he would rather not have dealt with.

Hearing, naturally, had also become far more important when he became blind. His hearing was fairly sharp to begin with, but now it was an absolutely critical asset. It helped him perceive an approximate sense of distance and direction, and with time, he was sure he would be able to hone in on that ability more precisely. It wasn’t quite echolocation, like the heroes used in those comic books Prompto liked to read, but it was still useful. 

Of all the senses he’d come to rely on more heavily, touch had been the most difficult to get used to. Even something as simple as sitting on a chair or walking down a hallway had become an ordeal with his vision impairment. He was beginning to feel less embarrassed about fumbling around with his cane and patting surfaces with his hands to orient himself, but it was still terribly inconvenient and he hated relying on it. Still, it was a half decent substitute for sight at times, particularly when it came to minute textural details… This gave him an idea.

“Can I touch you?” Ignis asked suddenly.

“What, you’re not going to take me to dinner first?” Gladio teased. Ignis could perfectly envision Gladio’s smug grin as he said it.

“Not like that, you  _ ass _ ,” he snapped, heat rushing to his cheeks. He cleared his throat. “I haven’t seen your face in several weeks, and to be frank, I miss it. I’d like to get reacquainted, if you don’t mind.”

“You know I’m just giving you shit,” Gladio said, his voice warm and reassuring. Ignis felt a large, rough hand take his own, guiding him gently, until his fingers rested on Gladio’s shoulder. “I’d be honored. Go for it, Iggs.” 

“Thank you,” Ignis said quietly. He summoned a mental image of Gladio to the forefront of his mind, trying to recall as much detail as he could. 

He dragged his fingertips lightly across the fabric of his shirt, sweeping across his clavicle bone. Though there was no tactile difference between this area and the rest of his skin, he could recall that his signature bird of prey tattoo started somewhere around this area. As he remembered, it had been a particularly sensitive spot -- his mind wandered back to the Insomnian tattoo parlor where Gladio had first gotten it done several years ago. Gladio had always had trouble keeping a lid on his colorful language, but that day, he’d muttered things under his breath that would make the gods themselves cover their ears. A smile briefly flickered at the corner of Ignis’ mouth. He always did like that tattoo.

He curved his hand upward across the expanse of Gladio’s neck. It was warm to the touch, the soft thrum of his heartbeat pulsating against his fingertips. He traced his way across his strong, broad jaw, and noted that his beard was a little bit longer than he remembered. 

“Gladio,” Ignis said, frowning.

“Yeah?”

“You ought to shave.”

Gladio snorted. “All right. Whatever you say, Mom.”

Ignis grinned. He continued mapping out the shape of his face, skimming over the peaks and valleys of his features. He took note of Gladio’s broad jaw line, his high cheekbones, his prominent nose, his strong brow. His smile faded as he came across the first scar, the one that trailed from his chin, over his eye, all the way up to his hairline. He stroked the thin line of smooth, hardened scar tissue gently -- a grim reminder of the pain the he was willing to endure for the sake of Lucis. He followed it along to where it met his second scar, the grisly gash that swept across his forehead. Gladio alone knew where that one came from.

“Chicks dig scars, you know,” Gladio joked.

That brought Ignis’ smile back. He drew back his hand and rested it on his knee, finished with his exploration for now. “Is that so? Between the two of us, we could attract quite the harem.”

“Too bad we’re too busy saving the world to pick up girls, huh?”

“A damn shame,” Ignis said, amused.

“Okay. Now it’s your turn,” Gladio said.

“Pardon?” Ignis replied, but he was interrupted by the sensation of Gladio’s hand on his shoulder. He flinched slightly, caught off guard by the sudden contact. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Thought I’d get some practice in,” Gladio explained, mimicking the movements that Ignis had used on him just moments earlier.

“I don’t see the point,” Ignis said, though he made no moves to resist the contact. “You can see just fine.”

“I can right now, yeah,” he replied, sweeping across Ignis’ cheeks in a fanning motion. Ignis could feel the rough callouses on Gladio’s hands brushing against his skin, no doubt built up from years of handling giant blades. “But you felt those scars for yourself. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a great track record for not getting hit in the face. It’s probably only a matter of time until my luck runs out and I’m just as blind as you, right?”

“You are absolutely ridiculous,” Ignis said. 

“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” Gladio said cheekily. 

“Unfortunately, you’re right,” Ignis teased back. “Please try to avoid going blind if you can, though. The last thing we need is both of us fumbling around in the dark.”

“Noted,” Gladio said. “Hey, do you mind if I remove your specs real quick?”

Ignis hesitated, feeling a little self-conscious. Even if they no longer had a functional purpose, there was a part of him that still felt naked without his glasses on. Still, if there was anyone he trusted to take them off, it was Gladio. “Be careful with them,” he muttered. He then felt the weight of them being removed from his face, and heard a soft clacking noise as Gladio placed them back on the bedside table. 

“Holy Six,” Gladio breathed. “I had no idea it was that bad. Does it still hurt?”

“Aren’t you supposed to have your eyes closed?” Ignis said. “And no, not anymore. Our stockpile of elixirs has mostly taken care of that.” 

“Sorry, got distracted,” Gladio said, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I’ll get back to practicing.”

Ignis felt Gladio’s hands cup his face again, making their way up towards his eyes. His touch was particularly delicate around his injuries, feather light against the stripe over his right eye and just barely grazing across the scar on the bridge of his nose. Once he passed over his left eye, though, it no longer mattered how gentle he was -- the nerve endings on that patch of skin were completely shot, leaving him unable to feel anything there anymore. All the same, Gladio treated his wounds with care and respect, making sure not to press too hard or linger in one spot for too long. 

“Okay, I’m done,” Gladio said, placing Ignis’ glasses back onto his face. “Thanks for indulging me.”

Ignis smiled. “But of course,” he said. “Thank you for indulging me as well.”

“No problem,” Gladio said, the bed creaking as he stood up. “I think we both needed this little heart-to-heart. Now come on, let’s get some slop. You’ll need it if you’re gonna take on the world." 

I gnis reached over and grabbed his cane before standing up. “If you insist,” he said, following the sound of Gladio’s footsteps.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Team Mom and Dad.
> 
> Note: I doubt any of you wandered in here wondering what happened to Bleeding Dry, but in case you did: I haven't forgotten about it. I'm just stuck. I swear I'll get back to it eventually :')


End file.
